


We Three Kings

by IKnowIAmAWretch



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hybrids, Originals - Freeform, War, Werewolf, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:37:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IKnowIAmAWretch/pseuds/IKnowIAmAWretch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silas fights for dominion over the Earth, Klaus fights for himself, Tyler fights for his dying species. Three immortal monsters born in three different ages make Mystic Falls their battlefield. Each one determined to destroy  the other two above family, above love, above right and wrong. The victory of the winner will be painted crimson in the blood of their enemies…and those they love. Power comes at a price. </p><p>Heavy Season 4 AU. Neither Klaroline nor Forwood friendly. Character centered rather than pairing centered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Three Kings

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic right after watching 4x20, so much of The Originals is going to be ignored.

Elijah looked up at the joke that was supposed to be the home of the Original Family. His family. It had actually been a moving gesture on Klaus’ part and that it had come from Klaus-poor mad, paranoid, delusional Klaus- had made it doubly touching. All the same, it was a joke. Now it was nothing but a bitter shell for Klaus’ resentment and the misery of his hybrid slaves. A monument to a simple truth that sometimes nearly drove Elijah himself mad.

His family had no home, no happiness. If things continued on the way they were they never would.

It was raining that night as Elijah walked up the steps to the sprawling front door of Klaus’ mansion. Elijah had found Klaus’ choice of décor rather goache, with his younger brother’s obsession with militaristic iconography being somewhat telling about Klaus’ delusions of grandeur. Still there had been a time during that period between his awakening of his long imprisoned siblings and the revelation of his mother and Finn’s betrayl that he had allowed himself the delusion. The delusion that this would be their home, where they could finally at long last live in peace and tranquility. Where the Original Family could begin the long and arduous process of undoing the millenia of damage they had done to the world and themselves.

Rebekah might have at long last fallen in love, a love Klaus would approve of and not seek to destroy. Perhaps even one of his hybrids in Elijah’s fantasy world of happily ever after. The Lockwood boy perhaps, Klaus’ first successful hybrid, Rebekah had taken him under her wing after Klaus had simply turned him and fled like a teenage mother abandoning her child on the doorstep of a more responsible sibling. In fact that had happened depressingly often during Klaus’ long years. He would become enamored with a human, turn them, and then inevitably quickly grow bored with them forcing either Elijah or Rebekah to tutor the young vampire. Klaus had been somewhat proud of Tyler though, possibly because of the fact he was his first successful hybrid and Rebekah had become somewhat fond of him as well. Elijah had not known the boy well enough to get his full measure though Elijah found Tyler did remind him of a younger version of Klaus. 

Before he went mad.

As Elijah entered Klaus’ manor-the Original Hybrid hadn’t locked the door, probably out of hubris, for who would dare enter the home of the mighty Niklaus uninvited?- he wondered what might have become of Finn. Even before Klaus had daggered Finn over some petty moral despute Finn had been the most introverted of the brood. Prone to bouts of deep melancholy. His time with Sage had been the only time Elijah had ever seen his older brother genuinely, truly happy. 

Finn would have likely bought a home separate from the manor if not outright built one-even as a vampire, Finn believed hard physical labor to be a noble experience- simply to have a place to retreat to from the hustle and bustle of his squabbling siblings. A home of his own with his beloved Sage, but ever close to his family. Elijah had always believed that despite Finn’s combativeness and detachment from the rest of the family that he had loved them in his own way. Perhaps he had, perhaps he had seen their deaths as a kind of redemption. Purifying the broken family in flames. His betrayal had stung Elijah far more deeply than he had ever let on. 

Kol might have been the only fly in the ointment Elijah realized as he set his wet umbrella against the wall. Kol was a sociopath and always had been. Dangerous and violent in his human life he had only tolerated his siblings out of fear of his parents-particularly his mother’s magic- and as a Original he had only tolerated them because their invulnerability and because in the end he was a lonely thing just as they all were. They were unique beings, all of them, bound together by a single night of betrayl and blood and death more so than the womb that had borne them all. They had no equals in this world and in that they were truly alone save for one another. Elijah sometimes wondered if his other siblings realized how truly sick Kol was. How if circumstances were different Kol might have killed every single one of them simply for annoying him. Not even Klaus was so depraved. 

His mother…his mother would have… Elijah paused in the entrance hallway, swallowing hard. He couldn’t allow himself to think about her, about her betrayl of her own children. How in the end, it was justified. How they all deserved to die. 

Elijah of course, would have been a teacher. 

He had learned many things in his one thousand years on the Earth. Truths and secrets, and he would have passed them on to the next generation. And the one after that. And the one after that. Philosopher, guardian, sage. Another joke. His own delusion of granduer, Elijah had once again fooled himself into thinking redemption was somehow in his reach. That he was more than another monster, that he could somehow erase one thousand years of bloodshed and torment and pain and evil deeds done in the same of a family that was rotten and evil. They were beyond redemption, beyond the light of humanity. Their world was darkness and misery. Every place they went became a tragic necropolis, a monument to their ability to corrupt and destroy.

Rebekah would never find her one true love, Klaus’ jealousy would never allow it. Finn was a pile of ashes, his beloved rotting in a shallow grave somewhere in the dark primordial forest of Mystic Falls. Kol was somewhere in Brazil, murdering and raping and creating more vampires to both help him terrorize the local populace and in turn be terrorized by him and his fickle whims. His mother’s body was likely locked in a coffin somewhere in this very house, rotting or perhaps being preserved by the spirits for her next attack. Part trophy, part reminder of Klaus’ own self loathing and arrogance. 

Elijah would ever be the keeper of this motley band of monsters. Forever cleaning up their messes, forever stopping them from destroying themselves and each other, forever both hating and loving them. Forever missing the people they had all once been so many centuries ago. Such was his lot in life, his fate, his curse. It was as unending as time itself and it would go on until the indestructible white oak stake was driven through his own heart or the heart of his last sibling.

And as for Klaus? The Hybrid Who Would Be King? Klaus his brother, who had united his family even through the darkest times? Not purposely of course, but through his actions and his fears and his mistakes and his ambitions. They had always come together, The Originals, to protect this their most unique half brother. Rebekah was the youngest but Klaus in his way was the most childlike, the one who all to often needed to be protected both from himself and others. He was their beating heart, the star around which they all orbited. Burning brightly. Burning coldy. Burning their humanity away like the ocean being boiled away from the Earth in the final days. 

Klaus sat in his studio, sketching in a art pad and surrounded by his paintings and sketches. A mound of clay that might have been his attempt at sculpting sat pathetically misshapen on a table that had been shoved into a corner. Most of his pieces were only half finished, Klaus had to push himself or be pushed by others to stick with an art project to its very end. He was easily bored, and his rapidly shifting moods also sabotaged his attempts at artistry. Klaus often locked into a single emotion or mindset when attempting to create, when it shifted he lost his inspiration and moved on to something else. 

Klaus’ hybrids were not in the mansion, they were likely out either hunting or simply enjoying themselves as best they could when their master had nothing for them to do. Perhaps they were observing some sacred werewolf ritual or holiday in the forest. One which Klaus no doubt had little interest in being a part of. Elijah had warned Klaus of his poor treatment of his hybrids. Werewolves were a proud warrior race who clung tightly to their traditions and savage codes of honor and loyalty. Already enslaved to the moon they did not take kindly to being caged by any other master, especially one as fickle and petty as Klaus. Free from the moon though the hybrids were, this simple fact was deeply engrained into their psychological makeup to the point where it was nearly genetic. Klaus’ reliance on the Sire Bond to keep his hybrids loyal to him just showed Elijah how little Klaus knew about his own parental species. How little he understood about leadership and how to marshal a force.

Sooner or later this hybrid situation would blow up in Klaus’ face, and then Elijah would once again have to pick up the pieces. Klaus would not listen to reason, would not pay heed to Elijah’s warning yet Elijah tried to warn him anyway and steer him in the right direction. That was part of the rhythm of their relationship. Elijah was forever counseling Klaus of the proper action to take and Klaus was forever ignoring him until Klaus required Elijah’s help once again. Yet Klaus never learned to take his brother’s advice and at the same time Elijah never learned to stop bothering with it. In the end, wasn’t that the textbook definition of insanity? Repeating the same action over and over again yet somehow expecting a different result? Perhaps Elijah himself was already insane, wouldn’t that be a very droll turn of events? Very amusing, Kol would indeed get a good laugh out of it. 

Elijah stood in the doorway to the art studio, watching his brother shade in his sketch lit only by the crackling fire. There was a fine bottle of brandy on the table next to him, the topper sitting next to it. Elijah sometimes briefly amused himself by calculating approximately how many liver transplants his family would have needed by now if they were human. The number was astronomicaly high. Elijah dared not intrude on Klaus’ creative trance, knowing that if Elijah distracted him Klaus may never return to the drawing. It was an odd consideration for this mass murderer who had taken Elijah’s family from him, locked them in coffins for decades and centuries and then tried to do the same to him. Such was the nature of family however. 

“Hello Elijah. Care for a drink?” Klaus asked, never looking up at his brother. 

Elijah looked away, somehow sad to know the sketch would likely never get finished now. Such an irrational thing to be upset over, yet there it was. Perhaps it was because Klaus’ skill at art was the last beautiful thing Elijah’s half brother could bring to this world? Everything else was death and pain. Elijah politely declined his brother’s offer and took a tentative step into Klaus’ art studio. Invading his brother’s domain just the tiniest bit, to test the waters.

Klaus stole a glance at Elijah and his pencil stopped making an arcing line. He watched Elijah like a wounded animal watches an potential threat. Elijah’s gaze shifted from Klaus to the sketches lined up on the wall. The subjects were varied, though equines and bizarrely enough humingbirds were a common theme. Klaus returned to his sketching, saying nothing more to his brother. Would it be the silent treatment then? Petty revenge for not staying to weep for days over his brother’s burnt corpse? Of course Klaus would want all the world to weep for him at his passing, he would want his surviving siblings to be berefit, perhaps moved to suicide themselves unable to go on in a world without Klaus. The truth was Elijah had been berefit when Klaus died-or seemed to have died. Elijah had left town, abandoned Rebekah to grieve in her all alone and wandered the streets of cities and towns. The joy he had felt when Rebekah had given him the news of Klaus’ unexpected survival had later been a source of comfort and sadness for Elijah. Klaus was familiar, the last one thousand years of Elijah’s life had been about Klaus one way or another and in that brought the comfort of routine. Sadness because it was only confirmation of the pathetic truth of Elijah’s life. That he existed only for the sake of his family. Without Klaus to define him, he was truly nothing. 

One picture caught Elijah’s eye not only because of its completeness but because of its subject and he gently lifted it away from the wall with a probing finger. 

“Self portrait, Brother?” Elijah asked.

A werewolf crouched majestically on a rocky outcropping. Klaus looked up, saw what Elijah was refering to and smirked.

“I was feeling vain.” 

Klaus was always feeling vain, so that meant nothing to Elijah. The older vampire leaned in closer to the picture to examine it.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen a transformed werewolf, Klaus?” Elijah asked, unable to keep the criticism from creeping into his voice. 

“I think the question is how long has it been since you’ve seen one, Brother?” Klaus snapped, the smirk disappearing from his face. “Perhaps you’d like me to show you one? I’ll have one of my hybrids turn for you. In the celler. Where you can’t get out.” The threat was clear. He was feeling like the defensive artist today. 

“Just curious.” Elijah quickly defended. The picture was colored, and Elijah was surprised to discover that Klaus had actually gotten the shade of his animal pelt right. In fact, the picture was strangly accurate to what Klaus had looked like in his werewolf form. Some of it could have been extrapolation Klaus did based on his human appearance, but Elijah silently wondered if werewolves perhaps had some instinctual knowledge of what they looked like as animals.

In most respects however, the sketch was wildly inaccurate. The werewolf Klaus depicted in the picture got the basic form right. Part man, part wolf, standing upright on wolf-like legs. Broad, powerful shoulders and a narrow, nimble waist. The werewolf Klaus’s head was turned slightly upright as though sniffing the wind. However the beast in the picture seemed far to…calm, a werewolf in repose. Clearly Klaus had based his depiction of himself more on Sierra Calender wolf photographs than the reality of his fearsome werewolf vissage. The head was exactly that of a normal wolf, though with the hint of a slightly human expression of contenment or joy. A true werewolf’s head was broader and thicker than that of a wolf, with a shorter muzzle and a higher forehead to accomidate their large human brain. True werewolves also foamed at the mouth, like a rabid animal though of course that would ruin the illusion Klaus was trying to create of the noble beast man at one with nature. It was revisionism, pure and simple, what Klaus had always wanted to be as opposed to what he truly was. 

Elijah shook his head at his brother’s vanity.

“Is there a reason you’re here, Elijah?” Klaus asked accusingly. He set the sketch pad down. “Perhaps you’ve heard of some plot against me and have come to warn me of it? Or perhaps you yourself are plotting my downfall and have come to lure me into a trap? Or are your just…visiting your beloved family?”

“The last one.” Elijah said flatly.

“I don’t believe you.” Klaus said with another smirk, a dangerous one. For such a miserable creature Klaus smiled an awful lot. This was one of his nastier ones, it promised Elijah that if Klaus didn’t get an answer that satisfied him Klaus would be satisfying his bloodlust with Elijah’s broken bones and pain.

“Why are you still here Klaus? In this broken little town? Elena is a vampire, a vampire with no children to continue her family. The Petrova bloodline is dead, there will be no more doppelganger blood for your hybrid army, what does this town have to offer you?” Elijah played his hand early, knowing his brother was in a state tonight.

“Have you come to collect me, Elijah?” Klaus asked, standing to pour himself another drink. “Come to take me home where you can keep an eye on me? I’m a big boy Elijah, I don’t need you to hold my hand and take care of me. I don‘t need your help.”

How wrong he was.

“In fact…” Klaus whirled around in a blur of motion and whipped the glass at Elijah, who barely had time to sidestep and keep his usual elegant grace at the same time. “I resent it.” He snarled through gritted teeth. He approached Elijah, hunched over with his head low like a stalking wolf. His eyes were wild with his madness. 

Elijah kept himself cool and composed and Klaus’ grimacing face stopped short inches from his own.

“Klaus, you’re wasting your time here.” Elijah said simply. His brother’s breath reeked of booze and blood. He stank like a Salvatore tonight.

“How dare you presume to tell me how to spend my time?” Klaus demanded. “Who are you to tell me where to live?”

“I am your brother, Klaus.” Elijah said evenly, calmly. “This town is stifling you. You’re miserable here. Why don’t you take your hybrids and come with me back one of my homes? Perhaps New York?”

“New York. I hate that city. And Los Angeles and London and everywhere else you have estates.” Klaus sounded less like a dangerous animal now, his tone had took on a cadence akin to a whining child. He turned away and stalked back to his brandy, pouring himself another glass. 

“And New Orleans?” Elijah asked. 

Klaus froze, he looked over at Elijah. 

“You have propery in New Orleans?” Klaus asked.

“No, not yet but I’ve made certain business arrangements to buy a restaurant there. Buying a home should be trivially easy. I intended to move there permanently in a few years as a kind of…fresh start.” Elijah said, knowing they were a lie not only to Klaus but to himself. The time for fresh starts was over. They had run out of second chances a long time ago. The good memories of New Orleans however might make their lives slightly easier to bare.

Klaus set his drink down.

“Have you been there since…since he drove us out?” Klaus asked.

“No…but I’ve seen pictures. I’m in correspondance with many people there. It seems beautiful.” Elijah began to approach his brother, and he held out his hand face down. A placating gesture, to try and center his brother’s addled mind enough for Elijah’s logic to seep through. “Consider this brother, after we became vampires our family was never as happy as when we were human…except for those days in New Orleans.”

“Do you remember when we first set foot there, Elijah?” Klaus asked, grinning at the memory. “It was all swamps and a few shanties. I thought Rebekah was going to strangle me for dragging all four of us out there to find a pack of werewolves.”

“Kol didn’t care, he just wanted to get away from a big city.” Elijah nodded, smiling. “I was just happy the four of us were together again…after our search for Finn had turned up nothing.”

None of them knew Klaus had daggered their brother. Elijah couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice, but Klaus didn’t seem to hear him.

“When the werewolves rejected me, I’ll admit. I wept, Elijah. Even as I slaughtered them all, made them watch as I butchered their children. I wept. I feared I would never find my place.” Klaus smiled, perhaps a bit sadly. “As the city grew around me though…I knew, knew this could be a place to call me own, our own Elijah. Our city. Our empire. Yes, I’d very much like to return one day.” Klaus said with a smile. His spirits had been lifted by thoughts of the city. “ But first I have business to attend to here. There’s a girl, Elijah. I think she might be...well, to abuse a cliché I think she might be ‘the one‘.”

It was all Elijah could do from groaning loudly and rolling his eyes to the ceiling. He was much to refined and controlled for that however. A girl, of course. There was always a girl. She was always “the one”. 

“I’m in love with her, Elijah.” Klaus said triumphantly. Less like a declation of love, more like a declation of victory. Like he had won a trophy. “And she is in love with me.”

“Does this girl know she’s ‘in love’ with you, Klaus?” Elijah asked sardonically. 

“Not yet, but she will. I’ll make her see that.” Klaus said, sure of himself. He pointed to the sketch on the table. “There. There she is, isn’t she beautiful?”

For the briefest moment the thought-perhaps even the hope- occurred to Elijah that Klaus had finally had a complete break from reality and had crafted for himself some imaginary mystery woman and given her form through his art.

Instead he immediately recognized the young woman the sketch depicted and picked it up to examine it. 

“This is Caroline Forbes.” A statement, not a question. He held it aloft, for Klaus to see. “This girl is eighteen-years-old. She has not yet graduated high school. This girl…is your one true love?” Elijah asked. Again, skeptical. 

“Does her age matter?” Klaus snapped, snatching the picture away.

“I heard her talking at your Original Ball-you know, the one where our mother tried to link us together and kill us all- she was planning her high school prom and complaining about having to pay extra to have the proper decorations flown in because it didn‘t match the theme she imagined.” Elijah said. “She is utterly, stereotypically a teenager. What can she offer you?”

“You don’t understand her. She is so much more than that. She can be so much more than that.” Klaus insisted. “If Tyler wasn’t holding her back…”

Ah, Tyler. That was it. That was the crux of the matter. Klaus went on and on, about Caroline’s beauty and light, railing against Tyler the whole time, placing the blame for her reluctance to join herself to him on the younger hybrid. Elijah tuned him out.

One of Klaus’ hybrids had something Klaus wanted and yet a woman’s heart is not something her man can simply hand off to someone else. If Caroline wanted to be with Tyler, if Tyler was as troublesome and defiant as Klaus complained to Elijah about him being. If these two young lovers were as determined to be together as Elijah was beginning to suspect.

Oh yes, Elijah suddenly saw Caroline’s appeal to Klaus.

Elijah sighed, it seemed New Orleans would have to wait until after a shallow grave was dug for Tyler Lockwood. And possibly-probably point of fact- one right next to him for Caroline Forbes too.

Klaus did not take rejection well.

All the same, he and Klaus had all the time in the world.


End file.
